


When All The Stars Have Gone Out

by likethenight



Series: Starless [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: So just howdidRemus end up married? He doesn't like to think about it much. Too much guilt, and the bitter sting of betrayal.





	When All The Stars Have Gone Out

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in December 2010 in a nostalgic fit of HP-writing after seeing Deathly Hallows part 1. Took me a while to get round to putting it here...
> 
> I always felt that Remus and Tonks' relationship was not well handled in the books; this was my attempt at working out how on earth it happened by treating the characters as actual, rounded individuals rather than just words on the page, and then trying to figure out what actions they might have taken to end up where they did.

Remus Lupin isn't sure how he ended up married. 

Well. That isn't entirely true. When he rouses himself out of the numbness of grief and denial, he can trace the sequence of events perfectly well, but it hurts to think about it, the guilt burning a bitter taste in his mouth. He has been horribly unfair to his wife - he has to make himself keep using that word to describe her, to make himself get used to it - and shamefully disloyal to the memory of the one person he did actually love. 

He tried so hard to put her off, tried so hard to persuade her that he wasn't worth her love. He told her he was too old, too dangerous; then there were the reasons that he couldn't put into words, not out loud, not to her. He was too broken, too gay, too in love with her dead cousin. But of course he could never have told her that. He is not a cruel man, and he thinks that would probably have hurt her worst of all. 

He still doesn't know what Nymphadora sees in him (he likes her given name, much as she hates it; he would much rather use that than her slightly ridiculous-sounding Muggle surname, but she won't take it, not even from him). He knows she used to worship her dashing cousin Sirius, but then everyone did, when they were young. She was only nine when everything fell apart, and Remus suspects that her parents didn't tell her the full story; she definitely had an air of hero-worship about her on the rare occasions that Sirius was mentioned during those long, awful years. Even after she must have found out what had supposedly happened, Remus suspects it didn't sway her opinion of Sirius very much. He was there the first time they met again, after Sirius offered the Order the use of Grimmauld Place for its headquarters - of course he was, once Sirius based himself there Remus was at the house as often as he could be, though it wasn't often enough, and he was by Sirius's side every moment he was in the house. Trying to make up for twelve years of separation, and both of them knowing they could never hope to make up for even a minute of it. 

Nymphadora had flung herself at Sirius, hugging him hard and declaring that she had always known he hadn't done it, her hair and eyes gone bright with joy, and Sirius had hugged her back, only a little awkwardly. He had been fond of her, too, all those years ago, the little daughter of the only cousin he had ever had any time for. 

Remus has to wonder, if he really thinks about it, whether she knew what he and Sirius meant to each other. She is an observant woman, after all. Maybe she's transferred her infatuation with Sirius onto him, now that Sirius himself is beyond their reach. Maybe he is the next best thing, her way of keeping a small piece of Sirius for herself. Maybe she thinks she's looking after him for Sirius, or maybe she thinks she's won, she's claimed the prize that Sirius couldn't. Remus can't begin to fathom her reasons, but whichever way he looks at it, it seems horribly unhealthy.

She wore him down eventually, her depression so plain to see, and in the end he felt as though he had to put her out of her misery. And if a tiny part of him thought that perhaps it was an unlooked-for surprise not to have to be alone for the rest of his days after all, he didn't admit to it. He swallowed his treachery and married her, trying very hard not to think about what he was doing. 

She's a nice girl, and she doesn't deserve all this, a broken shell of a husband who can never love her back. He has to admire her spirit, her independence; she's her mother's daughter in that, at least, another daughter of the House of Black who's run off and married someone entirely unsuitable. Andromeda always seemed happy with her unsuitable husband, but Remus isn't sure that her daughter is as happy as she claims to be with hers. She has her colours back, and now that she is carrying his child (another treacherous, unlooked-for miracle of a surprise) she is almost glowing, but he thinks that he can still see sadness in her eyes, when he looks hard enough, when she thinks he isn't looking. 

It almost hurts to look at her; there's a distinct family resemblance to Sirius in her features, and he doesn't think he's imagining that it's stronger these days than it used to be. He wonders if it's deliberate; is this another way for her to keep hold of her beloved cousin, or is she trying to be him for Remus? Does she know that she's a substitute, is she trying to be more than a pale imitation? 

Remus almost wishes that he could love her, though the sheer treachery of the thought steals his breath away every time. There was only ever one person for him, one devastating, rebellious, shining star of a boy who stole his heart when they were still just children; from the age of thirteen, the year Nymphadora was born, there was only ever Sirius Black for Remus Lupin. 

She deserves so much more, she deserves someone who can actually love her, someone whole and unbroken, someone who isn't crippled by a childhood accident that has made him an outcast, his very existence proscribed by the Ministry of Magic. She deserves someone like Kingsley, or one of the Weasley boys - not Bill, obviously, she wouldn't be much better off with him than with Remus - one of the brave, true, _whole_ members of the Order, who could make her properly happy. But somehow she doesn't seem to understand all this, she doesn't seem to see that there are so many more suitable matches out there for her. And that small, treacherous voice inside Remus is quietly pointing out that seeing as he's lost the one he really loved, maybe he shouldn't protest too much at being given two of the things he's always wanted - not to be alone, a child of his own. Even if it means betraying Sirius, being unfair to Nymphadora, and torturing himself, every day that remains to him. Maybe it's all he deserves.


End file.
